Sharp Chills
by Pandemxn
Summary: Clint and Natasha go on an observatory mission in Alaska when things go out of hand. They soon not only face the sting of winter but also the guns of a dangerous group. They're captured and need to find a way out of the mess they are in, with no hope of help from the outside. Strike Team Delta never has an extraction plan. Rated M for descriptive pain. Clint!Whump
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey! This is my first story, I hope you enjoy it. The first chapter is a bit short, I expect to write more soon. Mind that this story is rated M for upcoming events, which will include a bigger description of pain/perhaps torture (yes, a vague warning, sorry). There will be some slight Clintasha. Also, feel free to review the story so I know what to do better in the next chapter! (Also, English is not my native language, so I will apologise for any syntax errors or anything like that.) Have fun reading!**

The air was crisp and so cold that her teeth chattered. Normally, cold weather did not affect her much. She was a Russian; she basically grew up in the midst of a constant winter, but the wind made the stinging chill unbearable. Often she recalled a distant memory in which she had to wash herself with snow every morning and evening for a year to toughen her as a child. However, her childhood had been painful and therefore she would suppress these memories as soon as they came up. Even now, she clenched her teeth together even tighter and shook her head to scatter the evil thoughts from her mind.

She rubbed her gloved hands together and slid closer to the fire she had set up. The flames were small and gave off a scant amount of heat that she barely felt through her thick layers of cloth. Still, they danced elegantly, flickering from side to side just like dancers on stage. They were beautiful, a stark contrast in color to the pristine white of the snow that covered the ground. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile as she stared into the center of the hypnotizing blaze.

"Enjoying the show?"

Natasha Romanoff whipped around as she heard the voice speak right behind her. Out of reflex, she had drawn her gun, pointing it right at the man who had addressed her. She scolded herself for not hearing him approach; she blamed it on the thick earmuffs that she wore to keep her ears warm. Still, she should have heard him. No one should be able to creep up on her like this.

She blinked against the low winter sun that and squinted to make out Clint Barton. He was grinning and carried a pile of branches in his arms. His bow was slung across his shoulder so that his arms were free.

"Tsk, Natasha, you know that I am the only person around here. There is no need to draw your gun on me," he said and dropped the branches next to the fire. He tossed two of the thicker ones into the blaze which lit up for a moment. Then, it declined to its miserable size.

"Sorry," she mumbled into her scarf as she stored the gun back into the pocket of her coat. "It's the reflexes."

"It's okay. After all, your reflexes usually save our lives," said Clint as he took the bow off his shoulder and into his hands. Then, he sat down next to her in hopes to warm himself in front of the fire. "Anything new?"

She shook her head. Normally, she was a calm person, but this mission was especially tiring. They had spent the last six days camping in a snowy taiga in the very north of Alaska. There were rumors that an aspiring terror cell had nested itself here and was planning a big coup. The rumors were too thin to deserve the full attention of the Avengers but substantial enough to require deeper insight. She and Clint kept advancing into the terrain, searching for anything that could lead them to the cell, but so far they had found nothing but ice and snow. They couldn't use a Quinjet to look for the cell since they would attract too much attention with it, nor could they use a satellite to look into the terrain since the trees were too tight to find anything substantial. Frequent snowstorms also made it nearly impossible to get a clear image.

He sighed and threw another stick into the fire. "Well. At least we can go back in another week if we don't find anything."

"Mm, I could use a hot shower," Natasha said with a smile on her face as she imaged feeling warm again.

"I'd crawl into bed with a nice, thick blanket and I'd never come out again," Clint said and closed his eyes at the pleasant thought. She watched him with a smile as the calm expression lit up his face. It made him look a bit younger and less damaged. Over the years of spying and fighting, both of them had acquired several scars, both physically and mentally. They knew how to hide them. The only time that they could let their guard down was around each other. They were partners, for years now. It was easy to trust each other the longer you fought together.

"I'm tired of sleeping in tents. I want a bed," she said jokingly and leaned back a bit, letting the weak rays of light touch the skin of her pale face.

"Another reason to find that cell, Nat. The sooner it's over the sooner we can go home," he said.

"Yeah. We should get moving. We're nearly done with sector C6."

They had separated a map of the area into 36 hectares. Each one was to be searched by the two. Once they had finished one they moved on to the next. Once they had finished C6, they would move on to D6, then to D5 and so on along the grid. It was tiring but efficient work. After all, they had finished the other grids in just under a week's time.

"Well. We should get going, what do you say?" she said and got up, brushing the snow from her pants. She picked up her backpack and shouldered it, reaching out with her hand to help him up. He took it and pulled himself up. Clint picked up his bow and shouldered his own pack, slightly heavier than hers. Then, he kicked some snow over the fire to extinguish it.

He smiled at her. It was a motivational smile. "Alright, let's go-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the deafening shot of a gun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Woohoo, I updated within 24 hours. This chapter is a bit longer, I hope you like it! Feel free to review, tell me if you liked it!**

 _The rest of his sentence was cut off by the deafening shot of a gun._

They lost their ease as quickly as the distraction came. Over the years they had been on so many missions together that they did not need to look at each other or utter a single word to understand what would come next. Together, they were a unit, and they acted as one. Natasha drew her gun with her right hand and took her earmuffs off with her left so that she was on full alert. She dropped them to the ground with no intention of picking them up again. Clint had pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and notched it into the string of his compound bow, all in one swift rehearsed motion.

Luckily, the bullet hadn't hit them. Instead it had burrowed itself deep into the bark of a tree about three feet from Natasha. The gun sounded like it was far away, supposedly from a sniper. He probably wasn't very good since he had missed his targets- if they were. Natasha was certain that they were. Who else would shoot into a tree next to two people? The other possibility would be that the shot was supposed to alarm them, but that would not make much sense.

"Whoever has shot has to reload. Quick, can you see anything?" Natasha asked.

Clint narrowed his eyes. His eyesight was far better then hers; therefore he quickly scanned their surroundings for any signs of their attacker. All he saw was trees and snow.

"No. We have the lower ground; he must be high up, in a tree or something that we've overseen. Probably in a sector that we haven't been in," he replied. He nudged her with his elbow. "We have to go. Now."

"Okay, into the A sector-"

 _Boom._ Another shot. It hit the ground, just a few inches from Clint's left foot. This time, it sounded much closer. Clint took a step back, now seriously alarmed.

"That's more than one. _We have to go_ ," he said and turned to run. She followed him without hesitating. The packs on their backs slowed them down a bit but they were the key to their survival. They carried food and shelter, a tent, which was essential for survival in the cold weather of Alaska. Both of them carried their weapons at hand so that they could use them to defend themselves at any given time. For now, they could not fight back at whomever they were attacked by since they could not see their attackers. Clint was able to run with an arrow notched into his bow. Even though it was slightly dangerous it would be way more effective since it would take too long for him to draw an arrow in the time of danger.

They ran as fast as they could, doing their best not to trip over anything while doing so. The snow covered the ground about three inches high, which made it hard for them to go really fast. It was comforting to know that their pursuers would have the same problems. They could not hear the sound of an engine which meant that both hunters and hunted moved on foot. Together they darted past trees and boulders that decorated the vast landscape.

Natasha knew that they were in a very difficult situation. Their attackers must have known their location for a long while now. They had had the time to set up a sniper and a second shooter attempting to eliminate them. Maybe they even had the time to circle them in. Either way, she knew that they had to confront their pursuers sooner or later. There were at least two of them, possibly even more. If they belonged to the terror cell, this attack must have been organized. In addition to that, they were easy to track. They could not erase all the tracks they had left in the snow. Wherever they would go they would leave a visible trail behind them. They would be found soon, either way. That idea became clearer and clearer to her with every yard they left behind them. She quickly glanced over to her partner, asking herself if the thought had dawned to him as well. Probably. It wouldn't have been the first time that they had thought alike.

 _Boom._ Out of nowhere came the third shot. It hit Natasha's pack. The momentum of the impact caught her off balance as she fell to her left side, right into Clint. She took him with her as they collapsed into the snow.

"Are you hit?" Clint shouted as he scrambled to his knees, his hands frantically searching for his bow, which he must have lost in the snow during the fall. He found it and pulled himself to his feet.

"No, I'm alright. It hit the pack, I just fell," she replied and got up. "They're clo-"

 _Boom. Boom._ Two shots, both fired from the same weapon. One knocked the gun from Natasha's hand and it disappeared in the snow. The second missed Clint's shoulder by less than a finger's width. He looked surprised and raised his bow, drawing the string with the arrow back, aiming in the direction from where the shot came. Natasha ducked down, feverishly fishing for her gun in the snow.

"Drop the weapons!" shouted a voice behind them. Clint whipped around, instinctively letting go of the arrow into the direction of the voice. Natasha turned just in time to see the arrow hitting the target into the shoulder. The man who ordered the disarmament cursed creatively and dropped his gun, using his hand to pull the arrow from his shoulder. Clint reached into his quiver to pull another arrow from it as another shot from the left hit him in the upper arm. He groaned and dropped the arrow.

"Tsk, tsk," mocked the second attacker as he stepped into the scene, the arm that carried his arm fully outstretched. He aimed at Clint. "Don't you Avengers ever do what you are told?"

Behind emerged another two men, both armed. One of them now aimed his gun at Natasha, who slowly held her hands up in the air, signaling that she had no intention of fighting back. Clint in the meantime dropped his bow into the snow, his right hand applying pressure on to the wound in his left upper arm. He gritted his teeth in pain as he hatefully stared at the man that shot him.

The man looked like he was about thirty-five years old and obviously was the leader of the group. He was dressed in a white cameo suit and wore goggles and a white hat so that Natasha could not make out the rest of his appearance. His lips were curled in an arrogant snarl as he looked at the two like they were his prey. The other three men were dressed just like him and came closer, their weapons pointed at the heads of Clint and Natasha.

The leader was circling the crouching Avengers, examining them. "We've been watching you for about twenty hours now. Adorable, how you thought that you were the ones in control," he said as he kicked the bow out of Clint's reach as he looked down at the archer. "Although I must say, this little cardio exercise was fun. We should repeat that. Maybe I'll let you run from me for another bit."

Clint grunted and spat in front of the man's feet in disgust. The man narrowed his eyes and snarled. He kicked Clint in the face. Natasha heard the ugly noise of his boot connecting with Clint's temple and winced as the archer collapsed face first in the snow. The ice turned a light red color around his shoulder.

She looked up into the face of their attacker, just in time to see his fist lashing out at her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Another update within 24 hours! I hope to upkeep that pattern. Anyways, here is chapter 3! Also, thanks for the reviews. They motivate me to keep going. Feel free to add more! Tell me what you liked. Enjoy!**

The first thing that she registered was the intense cold around her. The second thing was the throbbing pain that pulsed through her temple. She winced as she forced her heavy eyes open. All they saw was a dimly lit room of a sort. No, she thought. It looked more like a cave. Suddenly alarmed, she tried to sit up. She then noticed the cold metal cuffs that bound her hands together in front of her body.

Then, the memories came back to her. She must have passed out after the hit of the attacker, just before he kicked Clint…

 _Clint._

She looked around. The room was indeed a cave. A thin layer of snow covered about half of the stone floor, reflecting some of the light that entered the room through a hole in the ceiling. However, a barred trapdoor sealed that very hole. Otherwise, it was quite dark in the cave. Natasha could barely see the other side of the hollow. It was big enough to take a couple of strides in and the ceiling was just about twice her height. But where was Clint?

A groan became audible to her left. She turned her head and saw something, no, someone move in the shadows. His black uniform had blended in with the dark color of the cave wall. He stirred, probably waking up just like she did a few moments ago.

"Clint," she breathed, her voice cracking slightly. "Clint, are you alright?"

A pause. "Nat?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you okay?"

Another pause. "Yeah… Yeah, I think I'm okay," he said slowly. Suddenly he winced as he moved his shoulder. She remembered his wound and crawled over to him.

"I don't think you're okay. You're hurt," she said softly. Now that she was next to him she could feel the heat of his body. In fact, he was slightly hotter than normal. She hoped that he wasn't developing a fever. They needed every last bit of their strength if they wanted to survive what was coming up, whatever it was.

He coughed. "I've been through worse. _You've_ been through worse, Nat. I'll get over it."

She narrowed her eyes, not believing his words. With a glance down at his hands she noted that his hands were bound as well. She also noted that with his hurt shoulder, it would be difficult to fight their way out of their imprisonment. He couldn't carry her like this. She had planned to pick the lock on the trapdoor if she could have reached it with her help, but now that was nearly impossible. Clint was too heavy for her, so the plan would not work either way.

"How about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Are _you_ okay, Nat?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Clint. I'm okay."

Another pause. She could feel his breathing on her neck. It was slow but thankfully steady. Him dead was the last thing she needed now.

"You don't have to worry, Nat," he insisted. "The bullet didn't hit the bone. I can feel that. It's just like… Pinpricks. Very angry pinpricks."

She still didn't believe him. He did that a lot, trying to reassure her that he was okay. On the other hand, she did it too when she was hurt. But in that case, he wouldn't give up. He'd do anything to make her feel better, even if she did not want him to. She had to smile at the thought of one of their last missions. It had been her birthday during that mission and he had smuggled candles and a lighter with him. They had eventually escaped because of the fire that they had caused as a distraction.

The cold started to annoy her. It had started to snow through the slits in the trapdoor. She shivered and bit her lip. She wasn't allowed to show weakness now. There was a possibility that they were being watched this very second, perhaps by cameras, but she had to stay strong for Clint.

"Can I at least see it?"

"Hmm?"

"The wound. I want to see how bad it is."

He sighed. "Okay."

Clint turned his shoulder more to the light and allowed Natasha to take a look at his shoulder. It was uncomfortable to move her bound hands, especially since the outside temperature made the metal even colder. She moved the fabric of his dark uniform aside so that she could see the wound. Whoever had imprisoned them had removed their thick coats. This contributed to the discomfort due to the cold.

Although Natasha could not see much in the dim light, she could see that a crust of dried blood had formed over the wound. The bullet seemed to have left the arm as well. This was good; it would have been painful to remove the bullet from his arm without any proper instruments. Leaving it in the arm wouldn't have been an option. They didn't know how long they'd be stuck in the cave. In the worst case, the wound around the bullet would have been seriously infected and Clint would have died- painfully.

"The bullet is gone. Maybe they removed it, but I am pretty sure that there is an exit hole. This confirms that the bullet had hit flesh only. Consider yourself lucky," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm very lucky," he said and snorted. "Thanks for checking."

"No problem," she said and sat back down next to him. His body heat comforted her.

"Do you think that they just dumped us here? To get rid of us?" he asked, shifting his weight so that he was more comfortable on the hard floor.

"No. I'm pretty sure that they want something from us. Otherwise we'd be dead. They are an aspiring terror cell, remember? It would have only added to their image if they would have killed us and displayed us somewhere where the world could see it," she said thoughtfully. She had placed her hands in her lap in an attempt to warm the metal shackles around her wrists.

"Good point," he admitted. "However, I have the feeling that we might soon prefer a cold grave to what will happen next."

She chuckled. "At least they gave us a five star residence."

"Ha, you're right. Remember Manila? That was awful," he said with a short laugh.

Natasha grimaced. "Eh, I rather not remember that."

They paused, each of them swaying in the memories of past missions.

"Did you check if you still have any belongings with you?" asked Clint after a while.

Natasha shook her head. "No, good idea though. Maybe they are stupid enough to have left us something that we can work with," she said with a hint of hope in her voice. Their attackers did not seem too organized, even if they had worked efficiently so far. She did her best to dig in her pockets with her cuffed hands, her frozen fingers hunting for anything they could touch, but all she could find was a bit of change in the left pocket of her pants and an opened pack of tissues in the other pocket. None of that was particularly useful and disappointment washed over her.

"Nothing. Tissues and a few coins. What about you?" she asked.

He checked, his teeth clenched together to stifle the pain as he moved his left arm. "No. I don't have anything. They must have checked us. I know that I had two loose arrowheads in my pocket before we left the campfire."

She sighed and leaned against the rough cave wall. "Well. I guess we have to wait and see what they come up with."

Clint nodded and shifted so that they sat closer. Wordlessly they sat together, sharing their body head and they watched the light that came through the trapdoor fade throughout that time. They both knew that the upcoming night was going to be a harsh one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another punctual update. Honestly, if I would be this efficient with my school project, I'd be done in no time. Anyways, here is Chapter 4! Enjoy reading it!**

Natasha awoke to the sound of wood cracking. She gasped as she jolted into consciousness, her head nearly hitting the rough cave wall. Her head had rested on Clint's lap; he himself was still asleep leaning against the wall. His breathing was slow but steady. It must have been in the middle of the night because there was no light coming through the trapdoor. The cave was dark and the only thing that she grasped from her atmosphere was the sound of what she assumed was a roaring storm. Wind was wailing ferociously and she could feel a chill run across her spine. As far as she knew, their only way of getting fresh air was through the tiny trapdoor in the ceiling. If it got blocked, perhaps through a heap of snow or a fallen tree, they'd be in deep trouble. The air would not last forever. It was only a question of time what would kill them first: their imprisoners, the weather, hunger or suffocation. She took a glance into the direction where Clint was lying; she could not see him but she could hear his breathing. There was his injury to take into account as well. He'd be fine for a couple of days, considering that he'd have something to eat. But without any proper treatment, the danger of an infection became more and more realistic.

Her stomach complained loudly. She bit her lip, asking herself if Clint's guess from earlier was turning out to be correct. If the hostile party really wanted them to die in this cave they would not bother to give them anything to eat or drink. She figured that with the little snow that came through the trapdoor their need for water was covered, but after a week or so they would certainly starve to death. Either way she imagined the scenario, it did not turn out well. Natasha took a glance up at the ceiling. Faint moonlight allowed her to make out just the outlines of the trapdoor. _There must be a way to get out of this_ , she thought.

With a quiet sigh she turned back to Clint and leaned against him. He did not notice and continued to doze. Her eyes fluttered shut and she allowed his steady breathing to lull her into sleep again.

It wasn't long until she awoke again.

Her eyes hurt as she tried to open them. An intense light beamed at her face, which was an unpleasant way to wake up. She blinked repeatedly, trying to get rid of the black spots that danced in her vision. Natasha gasped in discomfort when she finally moved her head to the side, escaping the direct hit of the light into her face. Only then she noticed that she wasn't in the cave anymore.

She appeared to have been brought away during the night when she was sleeping. The redhead was bound to a cold, metallic chair in the center of a dusty room whose floor and walls were made out of rotting wood. It was still cold so she figured that she was still in Alaska. Even though the chair did not appear to have been bolted to the ground she noticed that she could not move it. A glance down at its legs confirmed that it was held in place by weights that were bound to the bottom of it. Her legs and chest were secured to the chair by black tape and her hands were still in the metallic cuffs. This set up was supposed to be temporary, she figured.

She moved her head as much as she was allowed to, looking around the room for a sign of Clint. The only thing in the room apart from her and the chair she sat on was a wooden crate that was carelessly shoved into a corner of the room. Natasha also noted that the door was located right behind. It did not seem to have on a lock on it, but that did not help her much. She could not really move with the chair, so a planned escape was impossible for now. With a sigh she turned her head to the front again, trying to see something of the outside world through a crack in the wall.

Just as she squinted her eyes in an attempt to make out anything through the crack she heard the door being opened. An unpleasant gust of wind followed the same man who had shot Clint into the room as he strolled in.

"Good morning, Miss Romanoff," he purred as he moved around the chair to face her. The door shut behind him. "How are we feeling this fine morning?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "Splendid. Would you be so kind to tell me who you are?"

He laughed and sat down on the crate, eyeing her carefully. The man clasped his hands together and rested his pointy chin on them. "Certainly. Would you like me to spill my evil plot along with that, do you?"

Her expression did not change one bit. She had often noticed that remaining calm and neutral was the key to upsetting her interrogators. "I wouldn't mind some additional input, go ahead."

He chuckled. "Well, I suppose I do owe you a few explanations, do I? My name is Kav. That's it. You don't need to know more about me. We are in Alaska, as you may have guessed, since you are so clever," he explained, a slight hint of triumph permeating his tone. Natasha believed to hear a little accent in his voice, but she could not place it anywhere specific. It sounded strange und unfamiliar. "And you don't have to worry. The archer is still there where I left him. I think he's still alive. It's in your hands if he stays that way."

She raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain the blank expression in her face. "What do you mean?"

His lips turned into a maleficent grin, as if he had waited for that question to be asked. "In an exchange for a few little favors I might think about letting you two go. As a warning."

"A warning?"

"Yes, certainly. As you know, we are new to the business, but we are ready to kick off. Nowadays, people like us use social media to gain attention. But who would believe another little account made? We would seem puny, unbelievable, a scam. All we want for now is attention. Attention brings the fun with it," he purred, his eyes focused on hers. They were a muddy brown. An unpleasant smell like sulfur wavered from him and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"We should spread your name? That's all?" she asked in disbelief.

"Oh, no. That's last. For now, we just want to get to know you a little more. For example, we know for a fact that you've spent a week this summer guarding the President, haven't you? There are a couple of little details that we'd love to hear. "

"You plan to assassinate the President?"

He gave her a wink. "Go big or go home."

"You are aware that you've just told me what you are up to, are you?"

Kav gasped theatrically. "Oh dear me, what have I done?" he said and laughed. "Darling, it doesn't matter whether you know what we are going to do or not. I don't plan you being in the way."

"You said that you were going to let us go."

"I was. I can change my mind, just like the weather," he said and laughed again. Natasha started to get really confused. This man was indeed insane. He was not like the most antagonists that she has faced. They were usually calm and calculating, careful not to unveil anything too important about them. But this man was like an open book and he didn't care. That was what made him dangerous, she figured. Even though he was happy to spill everything he had she could not tell whether he was telling her anything substantial.

Kav caught her glance. "Hmm, hmm? What are you thinking about, Miss Romanoff? You can't be admiring the eloquent furniture."

"I'm merely identifying all of the flaws in your plan," she responded, her voice strained.

"Oh. There is no _plan,_ Miss Romanoff. There is only a bargain. You do what I say and you live. You'll get food. Maybe I'll be generous enough to give you a blanket or something. That cave isn't exactly cozy. On the other hand, it's the only room I have for you two. You don't do what I ask you to do… The archer dies. Or you die, depends who I can make the most use of. And I'll be sure that the other one watches."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. His plan was not very good but his bargain was of substance. She was sure that he was capable of doing the things he had just promised her to do. He had enough henchmen and enough personal motivation to do that. Kav seemed to be too difficult to predict.

"Anyways, Miss Romanoff. I'd love for you to cooperate. It'd be a shame to kill you so soon. I'll let you discuss with Mister Barton. Let's hope he's still alive."

She opened her mouth to reply but a heavy blow on to the back of her head stopped her from doing so. The last thing she saw before her vision blacked out was the grinning face of Kav.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey! Sorry that I could not update this story for a while. I was super busy, but now I can get back to writing! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feel free to review and tell me what you liked!**

Clint was alone. He woke up around one and a half hours ago just to find the cave empty. Natasha's comfortable heat had left his shoulder and he shivered. A chill ran over his spine and he cringed, gasping for air. He couldn't feel his toes anymore, so he started to wiggle his feet, attempting to thaw them a bit. With his hands he propped himself up. The floor was just as cold and he decided that he would not move anymore since he had warmed a small area around him with his body heat. It wasn't as good as a proper fire or a nice radiator but better than a frozen bottom.

He started to wonder where Natasha was. It was usual that imprisoners interrogated their victims separately, but it disturbed him that he woke up without her being there. He was used to seeing his bad guys make a show out of separating the pair. They must have really wanted to get down to business by interrogating them right away. Clint did not feel insulted by being chosen last. Natasha was harder to crack than him; he knew that. But in his defense, he was wounded and did not have her hardcore KGB training. He could not help but to smile. They certainly could not crack Natasha. She was a diamond in a room of blunt saws.

His shoulder throbbed painfully. Clint tried to ignore it. The archer had certainly been through worse. Maybe the cold weather was not too bad for his injury. He leaned forward, scooping up a small handful of snow from the tiny holes in the ceiling, holding onto his shoulder. Clint gasped in relief as the cold of the snow numbed his aching shoulder. The frozen liquid started to melt quickly. Apparently, his shoulder was warmer than he expected; he gulped and hoped that this did not mean the wound was infected, but he knew that he was only lying to himself.

He started to get worried, which was a welcome distraction. Natasha was gone for a while now. Either they were occupied with her, trying to break through her defense, or they were purposefully separating them from each other. He did not want to imagine other things.

"She can't be dead," he said, assuring himself that everything was fine. His voice cracked a bit. Clint could see his breath in the air, a white cloud that was a stark contrast to the dark cave wall. "She can't be dead. I'd be dead too. She can't be dead. She'll be back soon."

He quietly continued that chant while he hugged himself tightly, trying to keep every last bit of body heat that he had left inside of him. But the dark thoughts returned to him. Clint fought his instinct of calculating his current situation. It was getting colder. His body, despite his thick layers of clothing became colder and colder. Along with that, his shoulder seemed to get worse. Depending on how bad the infection was he might only last days, especially without Natasha. He wondered what would kill him first: the terrorists, the cold or his wound. Clint grit his teeth. The archer would not go down like this, he was certain of that. He would do everything he could to die on another day, on another occasion.

The sound of feet shuffling through snow disrupted his inner conflict.

He lifted his head, looking up at the trapdoor. _This is your chance,_ he thought. _They are about to open it. You are awake this time. You can try to bust out._ Even though he was trying to persuade himself to get up he knew that he couldn't. His body was too stiff; his limbs would not obey his brain. All he could do was helplessly watch the trapdoor being lifted by a pair of gloved hands and a black boot nudge the limp body of Natasha down into the cave. Her body connected with the stone floor with a loud _thump_.

Soon after that, she began to stir, a quiet moan escaping her blue lips. He noted that her hands were still bound. She heaved her body up, careful to not knock her head against the low cavern wall. Clint also noted that a different shade of crimson was seen on her flaming hair. Someone must have hit her on the head, hard. Natasha blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. They rested on Clint.

"Are you-"

"Are _you_ okay?" he asked, interrupting her question.

She blinked in confusion, but nodded. The redhead crawled back next to him, aligning her body next to his. "Don't worry, I'm fine," she added.

He wasn't very convinced. Her body was warm and filled him with new strength. "What did they want from you?"

A pause. "I… I am not sure. This guy is very confusing. He wanted information. He wants to… Become famous? Really, I am not certain of what his intentions are. But he has his threats and he is not fooling around. He's honest, though. A nice trait amongst all that weird crap that makes up the rest of his mind."

He let her words sink in. Those traits were very familiar to him. Over the past years, he had encountered many strange figures, some weirder than the ones before. It was as if all the bad guys out there tried to trump each other with their flaws and evil schemes. No lie, he once met a lawyer who was purposefully trying to get his clients into prison and sentenced to death. He was calling it reverse justice. What a weird fellow.

However, this man seemed more dangerous than the lawyer. Not only did he have Clint and Natasha in his backyard, trapped in a rather uncomfortable cave but he also seemed to be ready to starve them to death, freeze them to ice blocks or do whatever he pleased when he simply felt like it. Clint wondered if he'd ever been in a lunatic asylum.

"What's his name again?" Clint asked, his breath still leaving traces of white in the crisp air.

"Uh… Kav. His name is Kav, at least that's what he told me," Natasha said. She leaned back, resting her head against the wall. Suddenly, she winced and flinched forward, holding a hand to the back of her head. Clint leaned over, gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

"You're hurt, Nat, let me see," he said softly. She started to object but he inspected the back of her head.

"It's where they knocked me out," she said through grit teeth.

Once again Clint leaned forward to scoop up about half a handful of snow from the cavern floor. Not much had settled on it but the amount did its work. He held the snow to the back of her head. She gasped in relief, her shoulders relaxing instantly. For a moment, he noted, she had let her guard down. A smile tugged at the corners up his lips as molten water dripped down his fingers into her neck. She shivered as the drops ran down her spine but did not object. He felt good helping her, since normally she was the one attending to his wounds. Clint had to admit that she was much stronger than him. He seemed to draw all the pain and injuries to his body and in the end it was mostly Natasha who helped him recover. As long as he could repay her with something he was okay with that. Clint was not a macho whose ego was hurt every time he had to be saved by a woman who was a head shorter than him. He respected her and he would correct everyone who did not. Then again, Natasha could fight for herself, yes, even verbally.

A loud rattling sound pulled him from his thoughts. He could feel Natasha tensing up again but she stayed where she was. Clint raised his eyes just in time to see the trapdoor being lifted once more that day. Again, he did not feel the need to get up. For a second, the cavern was void of light as something covered the trapdoor, their only source of light. Then, something was pushed down the whole, just like Natasha earlier, and hit the ground with an equally dull noise. Right after that, the trapdoor was closed and locked again.

Clint and Natasha looked at each other for a brief moment. Then, Natasha crawled forward to inspect the bulk. She drew in a deep, audible breath as she realized what it was.

"What is it?" Clint asked, his eyebrows rose in interest. Natasha turned to him; her eyes bright with joy. She dragged the bulk over to them. Clint started to realize what they captors had just given to them.

 _Blankets._

He could not help but to smile as well. Natasha untangled one of the blankets from the bulk and gave it to him. Clint ceremoniously threw it into the air, holding on to the corners so that the thick fabric settled over the whole of his body. The blanket was a soft fleece, perfect to keep a freezing body warm. Natasha settled down next to him, the other blanket over her own body. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, still smiling.

"Maybe Kav isn't that bad," she joked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! I am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. I've had this huge assignment to do but it's done now, so you can expect more frequent updates! Anyways. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to review this story and tell me what you liked about it.**

The night was not as bad as the last. Now that the two had blankets they nearly forgot that they were trapped in the midst of winter. Again, a storm howled outside but the sound was deep and relaxing. It did not seem as threatening as the last, now that they had one less problem to worry about. Natasha had found a loaf of bread entangled in the two blankets, which was a relief for their growling stomachs. They had each taken a quarter of the bread, saving the other half in case they would not get any more food. Even though the crust was thick and the bread seemed days old they had enjoyed it. After a day of not eating they did not care what they ate, as long as they did.

Clint had found his goggles. They were deep in the back of his jacket's hood. He figured that they must have fallen in there when he and Natasha ran through the forest. Natasha had washed them out with snow and ripped the eyepieces apart so that they had two small canisters in which they had put snow. The heat of their hands was enough to melt the snow and in that way they had something to drink along with their bread. All in all, their human needs seemed to be covered.

Natasha now stared at the opposite wall of the cave. Clint was asleep but the noisy weather outside blocked out the sound of his gentle breathing. A tiny speck of moonlight appeared for a brief moment on the floor of the cavern, but it vanished quickly. She assumed that the sky had to be cloudy, hindering the silver light from reaching the ground. Natasha closed her eyes and listened to the noise outside. It reminded her of a mission where she and Clint were stuck in a safe house in northern Russia during a raging snowstorm. All in all, this entire situation resembled that mission, but back then they had hot water and beds to sleep in, and Clint was not injured. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile as she remembered how they had danced to the Elvis Greatest Hits cassette they had found in the back of a closet.

Natasha could not help herself but let the surge of happy memories lull her into sleep.

Something was wrong. He was overwhelmed. He couldn't see; it was too bright. His fingers were numb. Was he cold or was he hot? Why couldn't he move? He tossed himself around; his shoulder hit something hard, but he did not feel pain. Slowly he tried to lift his eyes. They were heavy. Were they always so heavy? He turned to the other side; more hard surface. Stone? Concrete? He raised his arm before him; it was just as heavy as his eyelids. More surface.

Clint Barton wanted to scream. He couldn't remember a moment in his life when he had been this helpless. His senses were overwhelmed. Where was he? Why was it so… Cold? He now recognized the difference in temperature. He was cold. Very cold.

"Nnn…"

He tried to speak, but his lips would not obey him. _Natasha._ Where was she? Were they in the cave? He was so confused; his thoughts would not order themselves like they normally did.

Clint took a deep, shaking breath and with a surge of willpower he ripped his eyes open. For a moment, he thought it was dark, but then he realized that his face was only a finger's length away from a moldy, stone wall. He instinctively jerked backwards, only to yelp in pain as his head hit something behind him. Only then he realized that the walls encircled him in a confined space. He let his fingers run over the cracked stone but he did not have any feeling in them. They were numb and nearly frozen.

Clint dropped them back into his lap. A sound of splashing alerted him. He looked down at him and realized that he was sitting in water. It went up to about third or fourth rib. He must have not realized it since it had already chilled his body temperature down to the water itself. That's why he was so cold, he figured. With that realization, he suddenly grasped the impacts of his situation. He was in no position to get out of this… Wherever he was. His best guess was that he was in a well of some sorts. He was cold. His body temperature must be critically low and the freezing water was not helping. As of now, him freezing to death was the most realistic outcome of this situation. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Puffs of white materialized before him.

Now that he was awake and alert of his situation he became aware of how cold he was. The archer hugged himself, trying to trap every last bit of heat he had left inside of him. His breathing echoed from the walls. As he looked up, he figured that he probably was stuck in a well. The walls towered approximately fifteen feet above him. He did not know whether the top was closed or not because it was too dark to make out a lid or an open sky.

Carefully, he used his numb fingers to stroke over the cracked bricks. There was no way he was able to climb up the wall. Besides, even if he managed to climb a couple of feet or so, he'd probably fall down at some point and there was not enough water to cushion his fall. All he could hope for now was help. He did not particularly feel like dying down there.

A shiver ran through his body and he hugged himself tighter.

For the second time this week, Natasha Romanoff awoke bound to a metallic chair in the middle of a rotting, wooden hut. This time, however, she awoke on her own. As soon as she realized where she was, she couldn't help but let out a deep, annoyed sigh. Really, if Kav desperately wanted to negotiate some weird deal, then he should do that when she and Clint were present at the same time. He wasn't that stupid and she got tired of being the person every villain wanted to talk to. Loki, Ultron, they'd all been at her doorstep.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting."

Thanks to her years of training, Natasha could stop herself from flinching as the unpleasant voice of Kav could be heard behind her. She twisted her head a little so that she could see him in the corner of her eye. His head was down, his eyes focused on something on a touchscreen tablet.

"A busy week?" she inquired, her voice void of any emotion.

He chuckled, his eyes not leaving the tablet. "Mm. Yeah. I've had some… Relocating issues."

She did not answer. Since her neck started to hurt she let it relax by looking straight ahead again. Kav's steps introduced him before he entered her field of vision again.

"The Internet up here is really shit, sorry. Ah! Here we go," he said and chuckled.

"Are you going to show me a Vine or something?"

"A Vine? I don't even know what that is. No. I have something better that I can offer. A live stream, exclusive for you and me."

She rolled her eyes as he tapped twice on the touchscreen. Then, he turned the tablet so that she could see the screen. At first, she could not really make out what was shown on it. The video was dark and void of any color except for a blinking red dot in the top right corner.

"I don't see anything."

"Look closer."

She squinted her eyes at the screen and leaned forward a bit. A small gasp escaped her lips as she made out a familiar figure huddled up in a corner. His head was down and he was hugging himself. Half of his body was submerged in water. The shaft or hole he was sitting in had a diameter of three or four feet, five at the most. He did not move.

"I hope he isn't dead yet. That would be unfortunate."

Slowly, she raised her head to glare at the grinning Kav. An unpleasant grin was painted across his unpleasant face. He clearly enjoyed what was happening right now.

"What are you doing to him," she hissed.

"That is unimportant. Let's talk. Depending on how quickly we come to an agreement, you might even save his miserable little life."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! Yeah, it took me a while to update again, but here is chapter 7! Feel free to review and tell me what you liked/did not like. Have fun reading it!**

"What do you want?"

He did not say anything. Instead, he turned around and examined something on his tablet. Natasha could see the tip of a vine-like tattoo on the back of Kav's neck. The rest was covered under his white jacket. He stood perfectly straight, his heels aligned side by side and his shoulders square. She suspected that had some sort of military background.

"What I want? Well. I've thought about this for a while. Certainly there is a limit to what I can ask you. There are things that I certainly cannot ask of you. For example some secret SHIELD files or so. Heck, I bet you'd even have to let Barton die for those. But I know that you want Barton alive, do you? He better not be so annoying. We both know that he is the only asset I have as of right now. You're trained to withstand… other techniques that I could use," he said with a chuckle. She really hated his laughing breaks.

"No. What I want is simple. What I said about the President? Forget that. Too hard. Besides, Barton doesn't have much longer to live. I cannot ask you of time-consuming things. No. I've changed my mind. I don't need you. I don't need the archer. I need someone else. You happen to know him, which is fantastic! You are of use now."

He changed the hand that he was holding the tablet with. With his now free hand he fished for something in the right pocket of his jacket- a phone.

"Alright, sweetheart. Now, listen carefully. I will tell you what to do. You will give me the number of one of your close buddies," he said. He crouched down in front of her and he looked her right in the eye.

"A close buddy? He's in a well right now," she said dryly, mimicking his tone.

Kav narrowed his eyes and the corners of his lips curled into a snarl. "Don't be like that, sweetheart, or he'll never leave that well."

Natasha bit her lip. She hated being this submissive, but she nodded. Her goal right now was to bring back Clint- alive.

"Alright. Who am I supposed to call?"

"Now we're talking," he said and grinned. "Yes. This is a bit cheesy. I am not creative, you know. I want you to call your buddy Stark. Tony Stark. Got it?"

She sighed. Stark. Of course. People like Kav always wanted to mess with the big guys like him.

"Yes. And what am I supposed to tell him?"

"Right. Business. I want him to transfer a humble sum of a couple million dollars to a Swiss bank account."

"A couple?"

"Just 50 of 'em."

"Very humble."

"I know, right?" Kav winked at her. It was disgusting. "Now, tell me the number."

She hesitated for a moment, then she dictated him the number. He punched the digits into the phone and then he pressed the 'call' button. As the number was dialed, he put the phone on loudspeaker and put it face up on her lap.

"Remember," he said, "I will be able to hear you. Don't do anything stupid, or the archer will end up-"

Kav was cut off by a static sound as someone picked up on the other side of the call.

" _Stark. Who is this?"_

Natasha took a deep breath. "Stark. It's me."

" _Romanoff?"_

"Yeah. Yeah… Listen. I need your help…"

" _Are you okay? You don't sound-"_

 _"_ Mr. Stark," Kav interrupted their conversation. He shuffled a bit closer to the phone. "What Miss Romanoff here is trying to say is that you have the chance to save her life. Also, that of Mr. Barton. A limited offer!"

" _Wait, what? Who are you?"_

"My name is unimportant, Mr. Stark. You see, sir, I need the money. You happen to have it!" Kav said gleefully. He licked his lips as if the thought of receiving 50 million dollars was as enticing as a delicious meal.

" _What the hell- Natasha, are you okay?"_

Kav looked at her with a playful smile as if to say, _go on, you can tell him._ She hesitated. "Yes. I'm okay. The mission in Alaska went wrong. You- if you want to do it, please hurry. He's got Clint as well. Clint is going to die. That's his leverage."

There was a pause. " _Okay. How much does he want?"_

"50 million dollars to a Swiss bank account," she said. If Kav hadn't listened she would have urged him to look for another option, but then there was the subject of Clint on the verge of death.

" _50? Sir, what do you need to finance? A crystal palace? A 365-day AC/DC concert? Now that I think about it, that does seem like a good idea-"_

"The clock is ticking Mr. Stark," Kav interrupted him once again. "I will text you the account number. And don't even try to trace it. You have fifteen minutes. If you fail to transfer the sum in time, the archer and the spy die. Do you understand?"

Another pause. " _Yes. I do. I'll transfer the money as soon as I receive the account number."_

"Perfect," Kav purred. Then he took the phone from Natasha's lap and ended the call without a word of farewell. He typed something on the phone and Natasha could hear a sound that indicated that a message was sent. She assumed that it was the number of Kav's bank account. When he was done, Kav looked up at her. He caught her glance and smirked.

"Perfect," he repeated. "How fortunate that you two got caught in my little net. In a few minutes I'll be 50 mil richer." He did a little bow as if to mock her. Natasha looked away. She did not want him to get the maximum level of enjoyment out of his little celebration by speaking to her directly. Still, she knew that this wouldn't do anything to dampen his enthusiasm.

"You have what you want, Kav. Now get Clint out of there," she hissed, her gaze still fixed to the floor.

"Oh, no, not yet," he said cheerfully and waved a finger at her. "I need the money first. Not that I have to throw him in there again, eh? Stark knows that he has a time limit and he knows what happens if he doesn't behave. He'll have two friends less. A surprise that that man has any friends at all."

"Oh, how many friends do you have?" she mocked him.

"A handful. Less friends mean less money that you have to spend on birthday gifts," he scoffed back, but it still seemed like she hit him in a weak spot. Did you know that the average American plans to spend about 830 dollars on Christmas?"

She rolled her eyes and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Her wrists were aching and her muscles got stiff from being stuck in the same position for so long. Natasha hated being this helpless. If she tried, she could escape Kav and his men, but that would take time and time was something that she did not have. As soon as Stark transferred the money to the bank account, Kav would release them, so she just had to wait a little longer. Still, there was a small part in the back of her brain that questioned Kav's promise. She wasn't sure if he'd let them go in one piece.

A soft ringing ripped her out of her thoughts. Even Kav flinched. He took the phone back into his hands and checked the notification he had received. A smile spread across his face. He got up and triumphantly held up his phone.

"The transfer is complete. Congratulations, Miss Romanoff. You made me rich," Kav purred.

She scowled. "There, you have your wish. Now, let Barton and me go."

He tilted his head to the side, as if he wouldn't understand her. "Yes? Ah, right. My promise," he said thoughtfully and he turned his back to her. "I did promise, didn't I…"

" _Yes_ ," Natasha sighed. He was testing her patience. Clint could die any second and he was enjoying playing games with her. She hated every minute that she had to spend with him.

"Right," he said. He looked back at his phone and dialed a number. As he held the phone to his ear he looked at her, waiting for the person he called to pick up. A click. Then Natasha could hear a muffled voice answering the call.

"Yes," Kav said in response. "It's me." He studied Natasha for a moment, then he took a deep breath and gave a command. "Seal the well."


	8. Chapter 8

**Wow! Another update! And a long one! Thank you guys for the positive reviews, they really encourage me to keep going. Enjoy this chapter! Also, I introduced a new character into the plot that you all might be familiar with ;) Have a nice day, guys!**

Tony Stark closed the banking app on his phone and took a deep breath. He was still confused from the call that he had just been on, but he knew that two of his friends were in trouble; trouble that required 50 million dollars to get them out of it. Still, Tony had a bad feeling about the sum he just transferred to a Swiss bank account. He knew that Clint and Natasha were on a mission somewhere in Alaska but he did not have contact with the two for a while. They did not request extraction; at least they did not send a request to Tony or anyone he spent the last week with. Otherwise he would have known, he was sure of that.

He put his phone down and tried to sort his thoughts. Something definitely seemed to be wrong. He couldn't silence the nagging part in the back of his brain. Tony was sure that he had to investigate into this matter.

"Jarvis," he called out into the room.

" _Yes, sir?"_ responded Jarvis, Tony's assistant.

"Would you please be so kind and tell me where exactly Romanoff and Barton went on their mission in Alaska?" Tony asked, concern permeating his tone.

" _Certainly, sir. It will only take me a moment_ ," Jarvis said. Then, after a pause, he responded with an answer to Tony's question. " _Sir, I found the file. They went to a location close to Allakaket. Shall I give you the coordinates?"_

Tony thought about it for a moment. "How long will I take when I fly with the jet?" he asked.

" _According to my calculations, you will take about 30 minutes if you fly at maximum speed,"_ Jarvis said. " _Should I-"_

"Yes," Tony interrupted him. "Please, feed the jet the coordinates. I'll fly right away. My friends need my help."

" _Certainly, Mr. Stark."_

"What are you doing?" Natasha shouted right at Kav's face as he hung up on the call. "You promised to let him go!"

His lips curled into a malicious grin as he watched her struggle against her restraints. She pulled at them with all the strength that was left in her body, trying her best to get away from the chair, from him, from this place. Natasha was aware of his eyes on her but she did not care. He was not exactly a trustworthy person, but he broke a promise that he gave her. Kav was playing with her and now he cheated. He was supposed to let Clint and her go as soon as Stark transferred the sum to the bank account, but now he had instructed his minions to seal the well in which Clint was struggling for his life.

"Certainly," he purred. "I gave you a promise. But do you know what, darling? I _lied._ Aspiring villains tend to do that. And I don't have anything to lose now. You two are two tiny blips on a radar that I don't even look at. Do I need you two? _No._ I don't need you. Also, I believe that the murder of two Avengers will look good on my CV, won't it?"

He laughed and looked for something in his pockets. "Hm. Unfortunate."

She narrowed her eyes, still struggling. "What, are you looking for a gun?"

His face lit up. "Yes, exactly. The archer is not the only person I need to get rid of. There's you as well," he said while he was looking for a weapon to kill her. Her heart was beating fast. She knew from the outlines on his clothing that he did not possess a weapon. Kav started to realize that as well and he looked at her with annoyance.

"Hm. I certainly don't want to strangle you. I could smash your head in with my tablet or my phone, but that would be out of style," he said thoughtfully. "I know! I'll go and get a nice and fancy gun and a camera to film it. Mm, yes, it will be a hit on the world wide web to see an Avenger getting murdered live on camera."

He clapped his hands like a little kid that was just awarded a big present. "Sit tight, Miss Romanoff. I'll go and get something to kill you, alright?"

With that being said he hurried out of the door. She could feel a cold gust of wind that brushed her legs as he shut the door behind him. _Now or never,_ she thought as he used her full bodyweight to throw herself against the restraints that kept her on the chair. Natasha could feel rope digging into her skin as she pulled her wrists with her. She exhaled and tried again, and again, and again.

"Come _on_ ," she breathed to herself. The more she pulled the more could she feel how the rope loosened around her wrists. With a growl of frustration she pulled one final time. As she leaned back in the chair the ropes fell off her wrists. With a sigh of relief she massaged her wrists to soothe the pain. She allowed herself ten seconds to rest, then she bent down to untie the knot that held her ankles in place. It dawned to her that she had to hurry. She did not know where exactly she was in the camp of Kav's group, but she assumed that Kav could return any second now. As soon as her ankles were free she jumped to her feet and hurried to the door.

There, she paused. Why run if she could take out Kav here and now? He wouldn't take long to grab the gun and a camera. She figured that she would have a better chance to save Clint if Kav wasn't after her to stop her. Natasha took a deep breath and grabbed one of the loose ropes that were now lying on the floor. Armed with her new weapon she positioned herself behind the door, ready to jump at whoever would be the next person to enter the rotting hut.

In her head she silently started to count the seconds that passed. She was good at multitasking and was taught to keep an inner clock when she was still young. In that way she could estimate the time she needed to perform a task on a mission or how long it was since she was shot in various body parts. It also helped her cook perfect pasta.

Forty seconds.

Her grip on the rope tightened. Kav should come through that door any second. She hoped that he'd be alone; it would make her job so much easier. It wasn't that she had issues with killing more than one person but more people meant less time she had to save Clint. More people also meant more danger.

Ninety seconds.

She started to get nervous.

Two minutes.

A shiver ran down her spine. Natasha started to get cold since she was standing right next to the door. She estimated that it was below the freezing temperature outside.

Three minutes.

She slowly realized that she was wasting her time. Not only that, she was wasting Clint's time. His name echoed in the back of her head. Was he dead yet? Clint was tough but she did not know how much time had passed since he was in that well. It was at least twenty minutes that she had spent talking with Kav, including the time that she was waiting behind the door.

Four minutes.

That was it. Natasha considered that she had waited long enough. She had wasted four minutes waiting for Kav. In that time she figured she could have found Clint by now. It was now or never, she thought. The redhead was about to open the door when a quiet, whistling sound alerted her. She hesitated and listened, her feet frozen in the place she stood in. The whistling came closer. Her heart started pounding wildly. That had to be Kav. He was returning to the hut, certain that Natasha was still in the same place where he left her. He was certain that he was about to kill the famous Black Widow live on camera.

How wrong he was.

Natasha took a deep breath and prepared herself to jump at whoever would enter that door. The whistling had stopped and she could now hear footsteps that came crunching closer and closer. It was the snow that made his footsteps so audible and for a moment she was thankful for it being so cold outside. She put most of her weight on her right foot and leaned forward a bit. Kav had to be at the door any second now, she thought.

"I'm back, sweetheart, and yes, I found the good camera!" the smooth voice of Kav called, muffled by the door. "If you're religious, say your last prayers."

So it was Kav. Natasha nearly smiled in relief. Now was the time for payback. Her eyes now were on the doorknob. Suddenly, it started to twist.

The door opened and Kav came in, a black camera in his free hand. Immediately his glance fell on the empty chair before him and he frowned. Natasha used his weak moment to jump at him from the side. He yelped in surprise and dropped the camera whose lens shattered on the floor. She had wrapped the rope around his neck and held it tight, pushing the air out of his lungs. At first he was too shocked to respond to her attack, but soon he started to fight back.

He clawed at his neck, trying to loosen the tight rope around it, but Natasha was determined enough to hold it in place. She had him now. For the first time she was the one who had the upper hand. For the first time he was the one who was in danger. For the first time she was certain that there was a chance of survival.

Kav started to get desperate. He now used his legs to kick her and he tried to stomp on her foot. She responded by kicking him in the back of his knee, causing him to fall over face-first. However, she did not calculate that he weighed so much more than him. Him falling over caused her to fall down on top of him. It took her all of her strength to keep the rope where it was.

In a last, desperate attempt Kav tried to roll over so that he was on top of her but he ran out of strength the more he ran out of air. His malicious face started to turn red and he wheezed loudly. Kav's eyes bulged and he gurgled as his attempts to claw at her face grew slower and weaker until his arms fell to the ground with a dull _thump_. Natasha gasped as she realized that he was no longer breathing and she finally let go of the rope. Gasping for air herself she took a moment to evaluate what she had done. She could feel her pulse slowing down again, returning to a constant. It was over.

Kav was dead.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay so I am really sorry that I took so long to update. I was really busy and will probably be for the rest of the year, at least until Christmas. But I hope and semi-promised that I will finish this story by the end of the year! So, have fun with the chapter. (Also, can someone teach me how to properly write an author's note because I see some professional people doing it with the line and stuff, I just do some bold text in the beginning of the chapter)**

Natasha gave herself another fifteen seconds to rest before she got up and took Kav by the legs, pulling him to the corner of the hut, right behind the door. If anyone checked on the hut they did not have to spot Kav right away. She estimated that the fight had taken about three minutes, plus the time that she spent cleaning up the mess it had been ten minutes that she was counting consciously in her head. She really had to hurry now. With her left hand she opened the door, with her right she clutched a gun that she had found on Kav's dead body. It felt heavy and unfamiliar but a weapon was her best shot at making it out of this hellhole alive. The cold hit her in an instant as the door opened and she grit her teeth as she stepped out, the snow crunching under her boots.

It took her a moment to figure out where exactly she was. The hut stood at the top of a small slope and even though there was a good foot of snow on the ground she could make out the perimeter of a path that led from the hut down through the trees. Natasha looked to her left and right, not being able to make out any branches of the path that led elsewhere; therefore she decided to go straight ahead. The cold was a nuisance but the spy forced herself to walk slow and controlled to avoid being seen by whomever Kav had employed as his bloodhounds. Once or twice she had to stop and crouch behind a tree because she thought that a branch had cracked under the weight of a shoe but there seemed to be no signs of life around her.

She advanced further down the path, passing more seemingly endless whites scenery. All of a sudden she heard a voice a couple of yards down the path and she took shelter behind the closest tree. The voice was male, deep, raspy, speaking in what sounded French. A second voice replied, also male yet much higher pitched. The voices where too far away for her to make out what exactly they said; Natasha could only make out a few bits and pieces. Even show she was fluent in French she needed to concentrate a bit to understand the language and the distance between her and the men was too far to do that. The spy edged forward a bit so that she could see from behind the tree she was hiding behind. In the distance she could make out the silhouettes of two men talking. Natasha considered hurrying up and shooting them both, but she heard something that made her hesitate.

"Yeah, he's still alive. But I'll only give him another ten minutes, tops. The water is already starting to freeze down there," one of the men said in a strong cockney accent.

The other man shook his head in disbelief. "How is he doing that? I would have said goodbye in the first fifteen minutes"

The cockney man shrugged. "I don't know man. He probably has some wicked breathing techniques. SHIELD is full of weirdoes, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a yeti doing seminars on how to survive in the cold over there."

They laughed. Then, to Natasha's surprise, they separated. The man with the cockney accent walked away from her while the other man, who she now could see wore an eye patch, approached her hiding place, unaware of the fact that he was not alone. She edged a bit closer to the path he walked along, ready to jump. As soon as he passed her, before he could notice the red on the white background, she leaped at him and flung her arms around his neck, pushing down with them just like she did with Kav and the rope. A few moments later and a body lay to her feet. She looked around, making sure that there were no other thugs of Kav around. Then she grabbed him by his ankles and dragged him away from the path into a ditch. She made no effort to hide him, but before she left him she took his jacket. It was slightly disgusting to wear the clothes of a dead man and it smelled like sweat but she knew that it was important to keep warm in this weather. Besides, Clint might need it more than the dead man or her once she found him.

Once her feet were back on the path she headed into the direction where the cockney man left his companion. Although the snowfall was heavy she could trace his steps along the path and her eyes constantly went from the ground back up to check her surroundings. She remembered the white suits that Kav's men wore when they had captured her and Clint to camouflage themselves and a shiver, not connected to the current weather, ran along her spine. What if she could not see another attack just like she had missed the first?

A loud, metallic noise like that of a hammer on an anvil distracted her thoughts. She turned into the direction of the noise and followed it, soon approaching a clearing surrounded by heaps of snow. Natasha quickly dropped to her knees, the snow cushioning her fall, and took cover behind of them. After second thoughts she pulled the hood of her jacket over her bright hair before she risked a look at what happened before her.

A group of men, she counted half a dozen, where assembled around a hole in the ground. Cracked brick framed the edge and a lid was carelessly shoved aside, exposing the interior of the hole. But to her, it looked more like a… well. Before a gasp could escape her lips her hands automatically clasped themselves over her mouth, muffling the noise she made. The men apparently did not hear her. One, who wore a pair of sunglasses, bent down over the hole, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey!" he scoffed down the hole.

There was no reply.

"Hey!" he shouted again, louder this time.

No answer.

Triumphantly he turned to the other men around him and pointed down the hole.

"You can pull him up."

Another man, a small guy who clearly shivered, snorted. "Why do we have to pull him up if he's dead?"

"Because Kav wants a nice propaganda picture, idiot," the sunglasses answered. Apparently that was good enough of an answer for the shorter man. He turned around to the others and gestured to the hole. Two of them uncoiled a thick rope while one tied a loop to one end of it. He took the end of the edge of the hole and put his foot into the loop. After a glance into the hole he looked at the two holding the other end of the rope, nodded at them, and jumped in. Immediately the two dug the heels of their boots into the ground and the rope tensed.

"More!" the voice from down the hole shouted and the men let a good meter or two more of the rope down.

"Perfect! I got him. Pull me up!"

They huffed and Natasha saw their breath form clouds of white in the air as they pulled the rope back. Just seconds later she could see the top of the hat of the man who jumped down the hole, then his head, then his torso. But it was what he had slung over his shoulder that made her heard stop.

It was a body. Unmoving. Blue skin. A painfully familiar mop of blonde hair. A wet uniform plastered to the rigid body. The body of Clint Barton was dropped into the snow.

Natasha fought the urge to burst through the snow and check on him. Something burned behind her eyes and she blinked several times to hold the tears back. Was he… He couldn't be.

The short man who had complained earlier nudged Clint's side with his foot, but Clint did not react. Another nudge, but it was nearly a kick. Natasha had to appeal to every bit of professionalism that was inside of her to keep herself from running at that short bastard.

"I don't know, seems dead to me," the sunglasses said and bent down, two fingers pressed against Barton's neck. "Ha, my own fingers are so cold, I can't feel anything. Or he's actually dead."

"Harris, even if he is not dead, he's on the verge of it. It's not like Kav will hand him a cup of tee and a hot blanket. All he wants is a picture and then we bury him alongside the woman," the man who pulled Clint from the well sneered and grabbed Clint under the shoulders. "Who's gonna help me put him in the trunk?"

His head gestured to the vehicle beside him. The sunglasses sighed and took a step toward him, but stopped dead in his tracks.

Natasha blinked. All of a sudden, something was off, but she couldn't quite grasp what it was.

"Fellows, did it just get a hell of a lot darker here?" the sunglasses asked and looked at the sky, one hand taking off the glasses that sat on his nose.

"Shit!" one of the men shouted. Harris dropped his sunglasses and nearly stepped on Clint. Natasha followed their example and looked up. It had indeed gotten darker, and Natasha had the feeling that she had never felt a more pleasant surprise.

She and Kav's men stared at the underside of a Quinjet, the grey 'A' that the Avengers sported on their jets and uniforms painted on the metal.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I am a really terrible human being because I AM SO INCONSISTENT WHEN IT COMES TO UPDATING CHAPTERS. I am sorry. But here is a new chapter and I hope you enjoy it. There will be one, maybe two more to go. And I'll try my best to upload before the end of 2019. Just kidding. It'll probably be 2020.**

Her first thought was that she was dreaming. She must have been so exhausted and freezing from the weather and the days of capture that she had begun hallucinating. But as the jet lowered itself closer and closer to the ground, as the shouting of the men grew quieter against the roar of the machines, she felt the heat that the engine gave off. Her cheeks, numb from the cold, seemed to melt against the rather unpleasant warmth of the Quinjet and she froze in her tracks for a couple of moments; maybe a few moments too many because it was then that whoever maneuvered the jet started firing.

Natasha threw herself to the side, her face landing into a rather unpleasant heap of snow, but she no longer felt the cold. However, it was not wholly because her body was used to the temperature; the adrenaline in her body left no room for complaining about a bit of snow. She kept her head low, arms above her head, as the bullets hit whatever found itself in their way.

 _Please just hit all of them_ , she thought. _All of them but… Clint!_

Natasha scrambled to her feet. Clint was still out there! Quickly she scaled the heap and rolled over it into the clearing. In an instant the jet stopped firing and the roaring engine replaced the sound of bullets. It hovered for a moment, then started to lower itself to the ground. Natasha, however, did not wait to see who piloted it as she stumbled through the churned up snow and mud to a motionless body on the ground. She passed the body of Harris; blood pooled around his chest and his sunglass-less eyes stared at the sky, not seeing anymore.

"Clint!" she gasped.

Her ears were ringing.

"Clint!"

There was a loud _thump_ behind her as the Quinjet landed.

"Clint. Clint, can you hear me?"

The engine stopped.

"Clint…"

She felt his pulse. She could not feel anything. She felt her own pulse. She could not feel anything.

 _My fingers must be numb_ , the spy thought, and her heart seemed to want to escape her chest in anxiety as she rubbed her hands together and blew on them.

 _Come on, come on_.

Footsteps.

Natasha held two fingers to her neck. _Thump. Thump_. Her heartbeat throbbed against her index finger, the pulsating motion of the blood being pumped through her body stinging her ice-cold fingers. She reached out for Clint's neck, her shaking hands trying to find a vein, a pulse, a sign of life. But before her skin touched his, a gloved hand intercepted her's. Warmth radiated from the black leather and she looked up, startled, like a wild animal surprised by a trap.

"Tony…" she breathed, the word barely escaping her lips.

Tony Stark looked down at her, concerned. He wore a black warm-looking trench coat and heavy, furred boots. A familiar woman stood behind him, but Natasha could not quite place her face yet. Stark knelt down next to her and took his right glove off with his right hand.

"It's okay, Natasha, I'm here now," he said soothingly. He turned around. "Helen, we need to hurry."

The woman nodded and hurried to Clint's side. She also took off her gloves and felt his pulse. It took a while until she reacted, and Natasha, who felt like this short moment was an eternity.

Cho nodded.

"Oh my god…" Natasha whispered. Her shoulder fell against Tony's. He put an arm around her comfortingly and looked around.

"Looks like I've got them all. Come on, we need to get that idiot onto the jet," he said and got up. He offered the Russian spy his hand and she took it. Only now that she was safe she felt how sore her body was as Stark pulled her up.

He turned to Clint and put his hands under the archer's arms. Helen Cho, the woman that Tony had brought with him, moved to take Clint's ankles, but Natasha had been faster and only moments later they carried the Archer into the jet. There, Helen had prepared a stretcher, on which they had gently put him. The doctor, who had hurried into the jet behind them, spread a white, thick blanket over him. Connected to one of the corners was a cable that coiled on the floor.

"This piece of garbage doesn't have any sockets for plugs," Tony explained, looking displeased. "I have to rely on low-tech generators to power a goddamn _blanket_."

Cho saw Natasha's confused face. "It's an electrical blanket," she explained, "Barton will warm up quicker with it, especially since he does not seem to have much body heat to warm up himself."

With that said, Tony turned on the generator. It started humming, but the sound was pleasant, almost soothing. She sat down in a seat against the wall and looked at Clint's unmoving body. His skin was coated with dirt and his hair was sticking out in all directions. Against the pristine, white blanket over him, he looked even worse. But had he not been caked in dirt, she knew that, his skin would have been just as pale.

"Here," Helen said with a smile, giving Natasha another blanket. "You need to warm up too."

The doctor turned and started to work on Clint. She began by dabbing a small washcloth in a steaming bowl of water and then started to clean his face. Natasha watched as his skin started to clear more and more. She was surprised to see that his face was not pale but quite red as most of the grime was gone, but then she remembered that people suffering from hypothermia were mostly the opposite of pale.

"Hold on everyone," Tony exclaimed from the front of the jet. "I'm taking off now. Don't fall, don't break anything- actually please do that, I need an excuse to make a new jet with some proper _sockets_."

Natasha did not take her eyes off of Clint but nevertheless she felt the gradual start of the Quinjet engine. She had to stop leaning against the wall because of the vibrating metal behind her, so she leaned forward and steadied herself by holding on to her seat. A plastic bottle rolled past her as the jet started upwards and the sound of the engine overtook that of the generator.

"Where are we flying to?" Natasha shouted towards the cockpit.

"New York! We'll get you to the tower!" Tony shouted back.

"How long?"

"About an hour! It'd take 30 minutes at max speed, but I don't want to ruffle Legolas too much!"

Natasha nodded and glanced back at Clint. Normally she couldn't help but be mad at him for injuring himself, but as of now she was too worried to do so. It was the contrary; she was mad at herself for letting a person like Kav trick them so easily. Strike Team Delta had dealt with countless villainous figures that had been more cunning or successful than Kav, yet most of them hadn't been able to inflict such damage to the two of them. After all that happened she wasn't even sure what his goal was, nor if he was still a danger to be reckoned with, even if he was dead for good. She had doubts about whether he was the head of that little organization they'd been dealing with. They just had been too sloppy to report to him only. Besides, there were many idiots who just looked for the first best leader to do dirty work under. As a spy in Russia those people had been her best targets; people who were eager to talk and too proud of the party they had joined.

"He's shivering!" Helen exclaimed all of a sudden, tearing Natasha out of her brooding.

"Is- is that good?" Natasha asked, confused.

"Yes, it means that his body is attempting to generate its own body heat again," the doctor explained. "He's gotten warm enough to get the blood flowing normally again." She felt his pulse. "Mr. Barton is getting better. Much better."


End file.
